


living in blue

by sleeponrooftops



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-04
Updated: 2011-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It must have been hard, staying in line, knowing your influences did it all the time; it must have been strange, living in blue, and see me shut down as though it was an easy thing to do.</i>  Erik hasn’t known love since he was forced to turn away from his mother and attempt to move the coin.  Charles has given, given, given every ounce of love he ever possessed, to Raven, to Moira, to his dead mother, to his dead father, and he has become empty and dried out, spared with nothing but discontent for himself.  And then Charles jumped into the ocean, and everything changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	living in blue

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to. Marvel is undeniably my favorite, and after reading a Steve Rogers/Tony Stark the other day, I knew I had to start my dabbling.
> 
> Also, the tense is a little screwy, and I don’t really know why. It shifts between past and present, and I think it works alright, but it did seem weird for a second or two while I was writing it. Oh! And don’t yell at me about making Charles muscled like McAvoy. It’s inevitable for me. I have such a crush on that man.

Moira was screaming.

 

Charles could hear her very clearly, but it wasn’t this that had him confused.  He was _annoyed_ with her screaming, _annoyed_ with her concern.  He didn’t want it.  All he wanted to do was stare into the pale blue eyes in front of him, tinged red from fighting tears and searing with salt water.  Both of their hearts were pounding, and the grip Charles had on _Erik_ , this struggling, desperate man in front of him, was sending electric charges through him, making his fingers tingly and his heart skip.

 

“Please,” he whispered, just loud enough that Erik would be able to hear him, “I’m sorry.  But you have to calm your mind.  You would have _drowned_ ,” he tried to emphasize this, tried to emphasize that, somehow, they had connected, deeper than Charles had ever experienced.

 

His mind was still raw and reeling from what he’d just witnessed, simply by grasping Erik and pulling him to the surface.  He hadn’t had to touch his temple, hadn’t had to probe; it had come to him as easily as if he’d been right there, watching everything that was Erik’s horrific past.  It was making it hard for him to breathe, and he was starting to feel faint from the lack of oxygen to his heart.

 

“Please.”

 

Erik finally closed his eyes and yanked from Charles’ touch, severing their connection completely and finally.  The electricity left Charles’ body and he actually dipped a little in the water, gasping.  Erik stared at him out of the corner of his eye, and all Charles could hear was Moira still screaming.

 

“What did you do to me?” Erik demanded harshly, his voice rough from the water and his forced away tears.

 

“I don’t know,” Charles admitted, “I’ve never done that before.”

 

“You’re a mutant,” Erik said, forcefully, and Charles nodded.

 

“CHARLES!” Moira’s screaming was becoming clearer now, and, moments later, he could feel her familiar presence as the ship touched near them.

 

“You can control metal,” Charles said, if only to keep his brain working.  His vision was blackening around the edges, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be conscious.

 

“I hurt you,” Erik said suddenly, and Charles watched, weakly keeping himself afloat, as the older man swam toward him and carefully looped an arm around him.  “Are you a… telepath?” he asked unsurely.

 

Charles nodded.  “I’m so sorry, Erik,” he said softly, not meeting his eyes, “I didn’t meant to intrude like that.  It’s never happened to me like that before.  There’s something about you.”  It sounded stupid as soon as he said it, but he didn’t seem to be in control of himself anymore.

 

When a floatation was thrown down for them, they each took one and were allowed themselves to be hauled back up where Moira immediately began fussing over Charles and Charles kept his eyes fixed on Erik.  There seemed to be some silent exchange, without words, physically or mentally, and, when Charles let Moira lead him away, Erik watched them.  Someone tried to speak to him, but he ignored them and started walking a full minute after Charles had disappeared.

 

He didn’t know what was drawing him to this strange, young man, but it was his stupid words, _there’s something about you_ , that were ringing in his head.

 

That night, they spent hours talking and understanding one another, something that Erik had never partaken in before, and it felt strange and right to him all at once.  Charles actually had a nice little room on the ship, unsurprisingly, as Erik was coming to find out, and he changed into a pair of dry clothes, tossing Erik some before he settled himself down on his bed and put his face in his hands.

 

Erik changed in the adjoining bathroom, looking around at all the small things Charles had brought along with him.  He’d heard somewhere in Charles’ constant chatter since he’d stepped inside his room, that they’d been on the ship for a week, navigating to this site.  Erik didn’t like the prospect of being stuck on a ship, but he figured he had no choice right now.

 

When he exited, Charles was dressed in almost tight-fitting jeans, a handsome white button-up, and a soft grey cardigan buttoned over that.  Erik had to stop in the doorway as he took in the younger man relaxed onto his bed before him, back pressed against the headboard, and fingers rubbing delicately on either side of his temple.  The air was electric around him, and he felt the light whispers of another mind, which he immediately pushed away.

 

Instantly, Charles’ eyes flew open.

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized when his shocking blue eyes focused on Erik, “I thought you were still in the bathroom.  I just… I was trying to relax.”

 

“You’re trying to read my mind,” Erik accused, “ _again_.”

 

“No, I’m not,” Charles quickly said, coming off the bed and crossing the room until he placed both hands on Erik’s shoulders.  “Listen to me,” he murmured, catching and holding the older man’s gaze, “When I touch my head,” he began, lifting one hand to demonstrate, “you’ll know.  But I will never enter your mind without permission.  You may feel my presence, but I’m not going through your mind, I’m just lowering my own defenses.  I get migraines sometimes,” he tried to explain, lowering his hand back to Erik’s shoulder, “And it hurts to constantly be concentrated, even subconsciously.  I honestly didn’t mean to invade your mind in the water.  I hope you can forgive me.”

 

“What is there to forgive?  As soon as we dock, you won’t have to ever see me again,” Erik growled, pushing away from Charles’ touch and going to the couch in the corner of the room.

 

“No, no,” Charles said, turning to face him.  His hands disappeared into his pockets as Erik frowned.  “I want you to come back with us.  I want you to join us.  Us,” he said softly, lowering his gaze, “There is me, a telepath, and there is Raven, a shape-shifter.  I _know_ there are others out there, and we just haven’t found them yet, but we will.  I’m certain.  Please, Erik.”

 

“You don’t know me.  Stop calling me Erik,” Erik spat before standing and storming from the room.

 

It was only three hours later when he felt thoroughly guilty when Charles had done nothing but try to do right by him that he finally found his way back in front of Charles’ door.  He slowly lifted his hand to knock, and the door opened moments later by an exhausted-looking Charles Xavier.

 

“Did I wake you?” Erik asked uncertainly.

 

“I can’t sleep,” Charles admitted, holding open the door.

 

Erik stepped just inside, something tugging at him.  He had to know.  Without warning, he reached forward and snatched up Charles’ wrist, waiting for that familiar gasp of metal to sing through him, but there was nothing.

  
“I wear no metal,” Charles said softly, taking his wrist from Erik’s grip, “At least not now.  My watch is elsewhere.  Chess?”

 

“And Scotch, please,” Erik said, smiling faintly.  Charles nodded before crossing the room, and Erik followed him slowly, observing everything around him.

 

And so began their endless night, filled with games of chess, interludes of silence, moments filled with constant talk, shared equally between the two of them, and _Charles, Charles, Charles_.  He was a song on repeat in Erik’s head.  He noticed everything, noticed the way he winced everytime he shifted in his chair, his migraine so very clearly still present, the way he smiled in a flash before his features melted away into his poised composition again, the way he left light, fluttering touches sometimes on Erik’s hand or wrist or arm, purely on purpose, but the reaction purely on accident.  Erik couldn’t understand what was happening to him.

 

It was only when dawn was nearly upon them that Erik looked up from the chessboard he’d been staring at for at least three minutes to find the younger man in the chair opposite him unconscious.  His chest rose and fell steadily, and he looked utterly at peace.  Erik straightened, staring at him for a long time before abruptly standing from his chair and nearly running from the room.

 

\--

 

Erik gave Charles a small nod and an even smaller smile as he descended the steps from the hotel.  He was chatting casually with Moira by the provided car.  “That’s all?” Charles asked, looking to the two suitcases Erik held.

 

“That’s all,” he repeated before going toward the trunk.

 

Surprising him entirely, Charles detached himself from Moira long enough to come around and touch Erik’s elbow, as he often did.  It was such an intimate touch that it always left Erik with a slight shiver in his bones.  “Thank you for coming.  I am so happy to have you by my side.”

 

Erik was literally shocked into stillness and silence at these words, and it took him a long moment before he could raise his eyes to meet Charles’.  He was so hopeful, so innocent that it hurt Erik, and he quickly dropped the gaze, regained use of his muscles, packed the trunk, and briskly walked away.  He pretended not to hear Charles’ sigh of disappointment.

 

\--

 

 _Cerebro_.

 

There was nothing Erik hated more.

 

He, Raven, Hank, Moira, and Charles made their way out to the dish, separated into little groups.  Hank and Raven were ahead, excited and chattering nonstop.  Charles and Moira were behind them, and Erik frowned as Moira continued to brush her hand against Charles’; eventually, and much to Erik’s happiness, Charles cleared his throat and pocketed his hands.

 

 _I could trip her, if you want_ , Erik projected his thoughts, and he watched with great amusement as Charles stumbled and then turned, gasping in silent laughter.  Just the beautiful turn of his lips gave Erik the confidence to walk up to his newfound friend and graze his arm slightly before falling into step beside him.

 

 _That was rude,_ came Charles’ response a few moments later, and Erik just smiled.  Moira looked confused.  Erik disliked her very much, and not only because she always seemed to be adamant on consuming all of Charles’ time, but because she wasn’t one of them and she’d never understand all their nuances, like Charles and Erik talking silently.  The others would have instantly understood what the exchange meant, but Moira never would.

 

And then there was Moira inside Cerebro.  Erik will never forget how she immediately called whatever agent it was that they were working with to tell them all about the exciting news, how Cerebro worked and how Charles had pulled it off easily _because that wasn’t what happened_.  He will never forget how when Charles collapsed, Moira whipped out her phone, assuming everyone else would attend to him.  He will never forget listening to her voice in the background as Charles didn’t breathe and Raven sobbed.

 

When they first went inside, even Erik was tingling with excitement.  It looked so scientific and formal in here, and he couldn’t help but come to the front of Charles as the younger man slowly lowered the strange contraption onto his head.  He made some crude comment about being a lab rat, to which Charles actually _grinned_ at him and told him to stop ruining his moment.

 

Erik actually leaned forward, looking right into Charles’ eyes, and then it started.  At first, it was wonderful to watch.  Charles was magnificent, fingers clenched around the metal bar in front of him, and Erik wishes he knew it was because of how much pain he was in.  Despite the pain, though, he looked ecstatic.  He was enthralled with the machine, and he was connecting with every mutant mind out there.

 

And then Erik heard it, that soft exhalation, and he refocused his eyes on Charles’ face from his new position leaning against the wall.  Fear made his blood run cold as Charles’ eyes fluttered, and then he suddenly wasn’t holding onto the bar anymore.  With a flick of his wrist, the contraption leapt from Charles’ head and Erik shot over to catch him as he crumbled to the ground.

 

“ _What happened_?” he roared as Moira shrieked and reached into her pocket.

 

“It must have been too much strain on his mind,” Hank said, quickly shutting it off as Raven dropped to her knees beside her brother and clutched his hand.  She was sobbing in seconds as she realized the same thing Erik did.

 

“He’s not breathing,” Raven gasped, scrambling for him, but Erik reacted quicker, lowering Charles onto his back and tilting his head back.  He had never imagined the first time that his lips would meet Charles’ would be to sustain his life.  He wouldn’t admit to what other ways he’d imagined that, though.

 

“We have to get him inside,” Erik panted minutes later, and immediately everyone was moving into action.  Erik carried his friend’s limp body, his grip tight on him.  Even in so short a time, Charles had wound himself around Erik’s heart and he refused to let go.  He wanted nothing less.

 

He refused to leave Charles’ side in his massive bedroom, but it was only hours before the young professor woke, groaning and clutching his head.

 

“You passed out,” Erik said as he came back to Charles’ side and sat slowly in his chair, “You’ve been unconscious a little past four hours.  Do you need anything?”

  
“Water,” Charles gasped, and Erik shook as he stood.  Charles’ entire body trembled with a pain he couldn’t soften, and it was ripping him apart.

 

When he returned from the adjoining master bathroom with a glass of water and a handful of pills, he’d already made up his mind.  He carefully shifted onto the bed before settling the glass and pills on the nightstand.  He curled both arms around Charles’ body, and, ignoring his exclamation, sat him up and scooted over behind him.  He piled pillows in his lap until Charles would be a comfortable level and forced him to swallow the pills before he relaxed his fingers into his hair and worked them over his scalp.

 

Not even a minute in and Charles groaned, throaty and scratchy, and Erik had trouble swallowing.  “Erik,” Charles managed to gasp out, “God, Erik.”  He continued to massage his friend’s head, but there was this electricity running through them, sending surges through Charles’ body that made him shiver every once in a while and flooding Erik with the younger man’s emotions and thoughts.  He was wary, but he couldn’t help the sigh of relief when he finally let down his defenses and allowed his mind to tangle itself with Charles’.  He had never felt more intimate with someone than that moment, wrapped into one, both physically and mentally, with Charles, who continued to emit these soft, taunting noises.

 

It was like something he had never experienced.

 

At some point, his fingers put Charles to sleep again, and he settled for just lightly carding his fingers through his hair, enjoying the sensation of Charles’ warm cheek resting in the crook of his right arm while his left continued to ever so slightly massage his head.  He enjoyed the soft tickle of breath against his skin and the steady up and down of Charles’ chest as he breathed, far, far away in his sleep.

 

If anyone asked, he would blame Charles for being so calm, blame the fact that their minds were still connected and he was overwhelmed by the serenity and peace that enveloped Charles, for the reason why he fell asleep with Charles Xavier in his lap and his fingers tangled in his hair.

 

\--

 

Charles woke with a start, immediately hating the instinctive jolt that brought him upright.  When he finally understood that he was in his room, he set about discovering why he wasn’t entirely on his mattress but on, _oh_.

 

He stared down at Erik, so much more peaceful than Charles had ever seen him.  He twisted his body a little further, looking at him strangely.  He was flopped out uncomfortably on _his_ bed, and Charles had been laying half on top of him.  He couldn’t remember waking up before, but he knew he’d had because he remembered very clearly the nausea and terror he’d felt during a bout of particularly excruciating agony.

 

And then he noticed something that made his expression even queerer: Erik’s mind was wound within his own.  In his short time knowing him, he’d always known Erik to be extremely guarded, and so it made no sense now why they would be so intimately connected.

 

He was brought back to reality when his bladder protested angrily, and he was reminded why he’d awoken in the first place.  Charles carefully climbed out of bed, wincing and biting back groans as he did.  He padded quietly to his bathroom where he stripped of his clothes, relieved himself, and then went into the shower, letting the hot water scald his skin for a few moments before he cooled it slightly and set about relaxing and washing himself.

 

When he reached out for a towel, something brushed the outer workings of his mind, and his fingers shook a little as he wrapped the towel around his waist and slid back the door.  And there he was, Erik Lehnsherr perched against the sink, frowning.

 

Erik bit his lip, trying to ignore the way his body reacted to seeing Charles nearly naked.  _You’re projecting your thoughts rather loudly_ , Charles warned him mentally, but Erik didn’t move a muscle.  Instead, he just continued to stare, soaking in the dripping and _almost naked_ man.  It was driving him mental, really.

 

Finally, Erik stepped forward.  He knew he was never going to get another chance like this, and he was already being so forward, so daring.  He didn’t even know how Charles felt in return, but he made sure to guard that thought.  He wanted to figure this out on his own, and he was sick of feeling like an alien being probed, even if he _had_ let Charles into his mind in the first place.

 

“Erik,” Charles said quietly, not breaking their gaze.

 

And that was it.  He’d broken the silence, and Erik lost his nerve.  He walked out like he’d done so many times before already.

 

\--

 

Charles tapped the front desk with a few fingers and smiled pleasantly at the receptionist.  She took his name and went off to find his key as he heard the front door open, and he turned to see Erik entering with his suitcase.  His own was at his feet, and he still couldn’t believe they were doing this, recruiting, together, _alone_.  It was their first night on a presumed two-month adventure, which meant Charles had found a rather large suitcase for all his “stupid, fancy clothes that look like they were hand knit by some Indian slave in a field instead of a fucking factory,” Erik had grumbled at least a dozen times, each time varying in length, cleverness, language, and swear words.

 

Charles flashed an even brighter smile to his companion, who just grunted and dropped his suitcase behind him.  “Your key, Professor,” the receptionist crooned, and Charles thanked her kindly as Erik mocked her under his breath.

 

“Stop that,” Charles admonished as they headed for the elevator, which seemed to be humming.  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” he sighed, stabbing the button and waiting impatiently.

 

Erik raked his eyes up Charles’ backside, from his loafers to his perfect pants to his stupid cardigan, and he decided that he wanted to break this gentleman open.

 

The elevator chimed and the doors opened, admitting them.  Another couple was inside, and they stood opposite them.  However, as the doors remained open, the metal around them almost seemed to shake, and the couple stared around nervously until one of the railings actually snapped clean off, and the woman ran screaming from the machine.  Her husband quickly followed, to which Charles slammed his head against the wall and groaned _out loud_.

 

The doors slid shut the same time Erik turned and closed all distances between he and the young professor.  He unhinged his mind, instantly opening Charles’ eyes, and then they were flush with one another, bodies pressed together as Erik crashed his mouth down on the other man’s, dominating him in that single motion.

 

Charles gasped, and he didn’t react at first, surprise coursing through him until he felt Erik’s fingers tangle in his hair and grasp for purchase, and then he was gone, kissing back just as fiercely and lustfully.  He moans into Erik’s mouth as he opens to him, and their tongues collide.  He means to reach up and grip Erik’s shoulders or face or _something_ , but as soon as his hand comes into the air, it slams against the elevator, the metal of his watch pinning him there.  Erik is completely and utterly _not_ in control.

 

The elevator suddenly chimes, but that doesn’t stop them.  The door actually opens, and they continue to kiss sloppily and messily in the corner as it closes again, but that’s when Charles gets his head back, and he forcefully projects the want to stop into Erik’s mind until he backs off, looking confused.

 

“I’m sorry,” Charles says before punching the number for their floor again.  He tries to keep his attention focused away from Erik, away from the absolutely singing of the elevator walls around him, away from how he is really struggling to keep his wrist in front of him and not dragged back against the wall by Erik’s powers.

 

When the elevator doors chime open again, they gather their bags and walk out, and Erik’s footfalls are heavy and confused behind him.  Charles is still projecting into his mind, and he really and truly hates that he’s quite honestly _controlling_ his best friend, but he feels like he doesn’t have a choice.  So, as soon as the door to their hotel room closes behind them, Charles releases him and looks down at his feet in shame.

 

It takes a moment before Erik realizes what’s just happened.

 

“ _How dare you_!” he roars, and Charles gasps as he’s thrown against the wall, Erik’s forearm bared against his throat.

 

“Erik,” he pants, trying to claw at his arm and break it loose so he can breathe.

 

“How dare you,” Erik spits in his face, leaning close, so close their noses are touching and Charles can feel him absolutely shaking with rage, “You’re worse than Shaw.”

 

“E-E-Erik,” he stammers, choking for air and desperately trying to free himself.  He certainly hadn’t expected this reaction.  “Erik, please.”

 

“I trusted you.  And you… how could you do that,” Erik’s voice breaks, and, if he hadn’t been fighting to stay conscious and find oxygen, Charles would have folded him away in his arms and wiped away the tears in his eyes that he won’t let fall anyway.

 

And it’s only when Charles starts to give in that Erik lets him go, stalking away as he crashes to the floor and coughs and chokes.  He pretends, as he sits perched on the edge of his bed, that he can’t hear Charles literally gasping for air, and he knows he went too far.  And so he gets back off the bed and comes around the corner into the hallway where Charles is on his side, shaking and gasping.  But he can’t make himself move, can’t force himself forward, and he knows it’s not because Charles is keeping him back.  He’s surprised he has any control to contain his own mind.  He finds, however, that when he opens his defenses, he’s flooded with fear and surprise and agony and _death_.

 

When he realizes Charles’ actually feels in danger, he nearly sprints to his friend and lifts him in his arms.  He fetches him water and he apologizes so many times that Charles actually puts a hand over his mouth.

 

“I deserved it,” he says after ten minutes and when he can finally breathe properly, “I’m so sorry.”

 

“I shouldn’t have pushed you like that,” Erik mumbles, shy.

 

Charles makes the move this time, slowly leaning forward and tilting Erik’s chin upward so he can ghost his lips over the older man’s, teasing him.  Erik is having none of that, though, and he curls his hand around Charles’ shoulder, pulling him closer.  Charles gasps, always surprised, but he kisses back just as fiercely, just as passionately.

 

“I want you underneath me,” Erik says without any warning, and Charles actually _moans_ this time, right into Erik’s mouth, and he loses all control, hands fumbling at Charles’ shirt desperately.  God forbid he actually has a _power_ to take care of that, but he can barely think of anything with this _image_ searing through his mind.

 

“Erik,” Charles groans as he finally, _finally_ gets those goddamn buttons open and then realizes they were some kind of plastic anyway, and it wouldn’t have mattered.  He shoves the cardigan off of Charles’ shoulders the same time he nudges him backward onto the bed, forcing him farther up.  His fingers fumble with the buttons on Charles’ classy blue shirt, and they’re plastic, too, and Erik just kind of wants to shake him.

 

“You need—” Erik pants, breaking away and ripping his shirt off, “—to wear—” he pauses to look up into Charles’ eyes, and he almost melts, “—more metal,” he finally finishes before bringing their mouths together.  Charles’ lips are swollen and _pink_ , and they look so goddamn gorgeous that Erik is having a hard time focusing right now, especially with the way his usually bright, _bright_ blue eyes are darkened to almost navy.

 

“Why?” Charles grunts, pushing Erik off of him, and he lets out a little noise of surprise as he lands on his back, “So you can undress me faster?”

 

“Mein Gott,” Erik groans as Charles deftly and quickly slips the navy turtleneck from him and over his head.  He sighs as Charles runs his hands over his body, and he closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling.  Suddenly, though, the button on his jeans snaps open the same time his own hands fumble with his belt.

 

“Charles,” he growls, his voice thick and gravelly, sounding so much like the German he knows, surrendering to a language he hides from because he’s losing control right now, and the telepath snaps his eyes up.

 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, instantly dropping the connection he’d unknowingly forged and moving his hands away from Erik’s jeans, “I’m sorry.”

 

Erik’s hands stop moving of their own accord, and he looks up at the young, handsome man.  “It’s okay.  I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”  Charles just nods, and Erik sighs before taking his hands and moving them back to his jeans.  Charles smirks.

 

He’s feeling far too overdressed as Charles forces him to shimmy out of his jeans, leaving him laying there in only his boxers, but then Charles slips off the bed, and all Erik has to do is flick one of his fingers discreetly, and Charles’ pants are on the floor.  He laughs as Charles glares at him, even though he’s smiling.  And then his white undershirt comes off, and Erik chokes on his laugh.

 

Charles had always seemed scrawny to him, lithe and almost feminine, but the torso revealed to him is far from that.  His pale, creamy skin settles over muscles, nothing extraordinary or particularly pronounced, but enough so that Charles is _definitely_ not anywhere near feminine.  He isn’t scrawny, or skinny, but he’s toned and clearly quite healthy.

 

Erik is having trouble thinking anything coherent.

 

But then Charles starts to move back onto the bed, and Erik takes his shoulder again and pulls him into a long and demanding kiss.  He slowly maneuvers Charles onto his back, and he can’t help it, he just _needs_ this, and so he lets his mind open, lets Charles wind with him, and the telepath gasps, breaking from the kiss at the very intimacy at their connection.  He’s never felt something like Erik before.

 

Erik traces a hand down Charles’ side, stopping at the hem of his briefs, _of course_ , and slips just one finger inside, dragging it along his waist and hip bones until Charles is squirming just a little.  Erik’s hands start to move again of their own accord until Erik flashes anger between them, and Charles immediately stops.  They’re learning one another, Charles learning to open Erik and Erik learning to find control over Charles’ incredible gift.  They are becoming one.

 

Regardless, Erik still tugs down Charles’ briefs in a flash, smirking when the younger man looks up at him shyly.  _There is nothing you need to shy away from.  You are beautiful_ , Erik says softly, his lips never moving.  Charles’ blue eyes are wide, and Erik just smirks.  He’s never done this before, and he knows Charles certainly hasn’t, but he understands the basic mechanics, and so he wiggles three fingers up until Charles opens his mouth, and Erik is pretty sure he almost just came.

 

Watching Charles suck on his fingers and swirl his tongue around the digits has him stifling moans and all sorts of noises until, finally, he can’t take it anymore, and he snatches his hand back, panting.  He runs the pad of his index finger over Charles’ entrance, and the young professor sighs and pushes against him a little.

 

 _Have you done this before?_ Erik demands right before he slowly pushes his finger through tight, _tight_ muscle.  God, he cannot wait to be inside of him.

 

 _Stop talking,_ Charles growls, and Erik looks up to find his face screwed up in pain.  He almost retreats, but, of course, Charles senses his motions and his eyes flash open.  “No,” he gasps aloud, “Please no.”  And so that’s settled.

 

Erik has never had sex with another man before.  Sure, he’s kissed them and even been blown by one before, but this, _this_ is something he never imagined.  Charles tends to do that to him, though.

 

When he’s finally ready and Erik is lined up, Charles smiles adoringly down at him, and Erik is overwhelmed with waves of gratitude and love and peace.  He feels like he’s going to explode, and he pushes into Charles’, shaking and glassy-eyed.

 

 _It’s okay_ , Charles says in his mind, and Erik comes undone, words spilling out in German and English as he thrusts his hips into the professor’s, Charles rocking back rhythmically, and their words tumble into moans and groans and grunts and gasps until they’re wound together, and Charles is raking his shoulders with his fingernails and Erik is bent over him, inspired solely by the beautiful noises that emit themselves from Charles’ throat.

 

He tells Charles he loves him at some point, in German, and then in English, _Ich liebe dich_ , and Charles just holds him tighter and tells him he’s always loved him, even before he knew him, and it doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t matter, _I love you_.

 

\--

 

Erik is dressing when Charles walks back out from the bathroom three weeks later.  They’re in some hotel room in some city finding some mutant.  He throws on his tan, leather, bomber jacket the same time Charles pulls on a pair of jeans, and Erik smiles.

 

“I love you in normal clothes,” he mumbles, threading his fingers through Charles’ hair and pulling him in for a bruising kiss.

 

“You just think I look like a prat otherwise,” Charles accuses.

 

“Pretty much.”

 

They headed out of the hotel together, hand-in-hand because that’s how Charles is and, quite frankly, Erik doesn’t care anymore.  In any case, it worried Erik to let go of Charles for long periods of time when they ventured out to find the mutants.  He watched as Charles lifted a hand concealed in those fingerless gloves he loved so much and as he casually rubbed his fingers against his temple and then gasped lightly.

 

“He’s nearby.  I think his name is Logan.  He knows there’s others out there that are like him, but how, I know not.”  Erik just nodded and let Charles lead the way.  They found themselves outside of a bar, and Charles stopped them just before the door to lean up on his tiptoes and kiss Erik delicately.  “Be nice,” he said, and Erik rolled his eyes.

 

They ended up back outside in thirty seconds flat, both extremely confused and then Charles rocked Erik’s world, “Did he just tell us to go fuck ourselves?  Are you okay?” he added as Erik choked on air and gripped Charles’ hand.

 

“Say that again,” he demanded, turning to face Charles with a dark glint in his eyes.

 

“What?  I was just asking.  I wasn’t really sure if we’d just imagined that.  Go fuck yourselves,” he imitated Logan in a deep, gravelly voice that had Erik yanking him toward the alley next to the bar.  It was thin and dark, very dark, and Erik pressed the professor against the cold, stone wall once they were far enough within, crushing their mouths together.

 

“Erik,” Charles gasped, prying away from him and only managed to squish them closer into the wall.  “E-Erik, what are you doing?”

 

But Charles’ jeans were already unzipped and Erik’s hand plunged inside, cold from the chilly morning around them.  Charles groaned at the contact, leaning his hips up into Erik’s touch.  “We can’t do this out here,” he managed to huff out, breath coming in short pants as Erik worked his cock in quick, fast motions, mouth busying itself around Charles’ neck and ears and throat and jaw.  He was painfully hard in his own pants, but he wanted to hear Charles swear again.

 

“God, you think so fucking loud,” Charles snapped, grabbing Erik’s jaw and slamming their mouths together.  They kissed heatedly as Charles swatted away Erik’s hand and ripped down the zipper of the older man’s jeans.

 

“What are you doing?” Erik asked, but that was all he managed as Charles kissed him again, forceful and hungry.  He retreated by biting down on Erik’s lip, sucking lightly, and Erik all but fell apart.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” Charles purred, slack-jawing Erik until Charles took his hand and licked out onto his fingers, tongue darting around as Erik watched helplessly, Charles’ blue, _blue_ eyes boring into him.  And then Charles was turning, and Erik felt his hand moving, and he let Charles direct him for once.  “Erik,” he moaned, and that was that.  Erik stretched him until he was ready and waiting, and he pushed inside, not caring that light was starting to seep in at the very edges of the alley and that they very well might be caught.

 

Charles balanced them just a little from the wall, hands spread before him, to give room for Erik to grasp his throbbing cock and so he didn’t bruise on the brick wall.  He could feel the rub of Erik’s denim against his thighs, but he didn’t mind.  His own jeans were settled around his knees, his legs stretched to give Erik the best angle.

 

“F-f-fuck, Charles,” Erik gasped suddenly, biting into the side of his neck, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted.

 

Charles groaned, lowering his head to Erik’s shoulder and allowing him better room.  Erik bit suddenly, right where his collarbone popped, and Charles swore obscenely, streams of incoherent words spilling from him as Erik sucked and his dick rubbed over his prostate again.  Erik growled something he couldn’t make out, something German, his free hand gripping Charles’ hip tightly, bruising the pale skin.  Charles scrambled for some kind of purchase, somewhere to sink his fingers in, and they fell forward the same time he sunk one hand in Erik’s hair and the other scratched at the arm that connected to the hand running fluidly over his own dick.

 

His fingernails scraped at Erik’s scalp, which seemed to pleasure him, for he grunted and slammed harder into Charles, breath coming in heavy and short pants.  “Kuss.  Brauchen.  Charles.”  Charles turned his head immediately, and Erik’s mouth found his.  It was difficult with the angle, and messy, but it was hot and heavy and everything the two men needed.

 

“God _damn_ it,” Charles suddenly gasped, fisting his fingers in Erik’s hair and slamming his head back as the heat in his belly burst and he came undone in Erik’s hands, moaning and swearing.  That seemed to push Erik right over the edge because he staggered a little, sending them into the wall as his thrusts became uneven and harder.

 

They stayed like that for a minute or two, sunk into one another, panting and spent.  Charles laughed when Erik’s stomach grumbled, and Erik pulled away from him delicately, hands balanced on Charles’ hips.  Charles fished around for a tissue in his pocket to clean himself as they dressed again.

 

“That was wonderful,” Erik murmured, kissing Charles deeply before they exited the alley, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.  They found an adorable diner to eat breakfast at before they headed out to their next stop: a jail.

 

Alex Summers was promising, and he instantly took to them.  However, they’d managed to find him a lot faster than they’d originally planned.  They usually gave a day to each mutant, time to explain and talk with them, but Logan had denied them so fast and so obscenely that they’d had the day for Alex instead of him, which meant they had an extra day in this particular city because all they were approaching were Logan and Alex.

 

They spent the afternoon at lunch with Alex, getting to know him and explaining all that they had in mind.  Alex had been sold as soon as Erik lifted his utensils to cut one of Alex’s fries as a demonstration, and now they were waiting for him to gather his things from the jail before they headed back to their hotel room.

 

 _Charles_ , the thought came at him faster and harder than Erik had ever done before, and he actually flinched before looking over at his friend in confusion.  They were in the back of a taxi, Alex separating them.  _What do we do?_

_About what?_ Charles returned, brow furrowed.  Alex was watching them with interest.

 

_About us.  We only have one room.  Two beds._

_We only use one of the beds, Erik._

Erik’s disbelief was so forceful that Charles actually closed off his mind and watched the street go by.  “Did you just… did you just have a mental conversation with him?” Alex asked, looking bewildered and amazed all at once.

 

“Unfortunately,” Charles snapped.

 

“Don’t get defensive all of a sudden,” Erik retorted, leaning forward in his seat.

 

“I’m perfectly allowed to get defensive,” Charles said without looking away from the window, “If _you_ want to keep everything a secret.”

  
“Oh really, Charles,” Erik snorted, “Because you’re so keen on revealing _this_ to the world.”

 

“Do I _embarrass_ you?” he demanded, fists tightening as the metal on his watch pulled away from him.  “Erik!” he growled, finally facing his friend, and he shoved his way into his mind and ordered him into a state of calm.  It was so sudden that Alex gasped and Erik just stared at him in horror.

 

Charles blinked, severing the connection.  The fury reignited instantly behind Erik’s eyes, but Charles turned his glassy blue eyes away, ending any conversation Erik hoped to have.

 

\--

 

Erik’s anger and Charles’ disappointment did not bode well when they arrived back at the hotel.  Alex felt like a child stuck between two fighting parents, but he said nothing as they led him into their room, and he immediately noted how one of the beds was completely unused.  A pile of books were scattered on the floor as though they’d been recently tripped over ( _“Honestly, do you need eight million books everywhere we go?”  “I’m working on another thesis, I think.”  “You’re already a professor!”  “So?  I can write for other fields and get degrees elsewhere.”  “You’re seriously the most insane and the smartest man I’ve ever met.”)_ , a drawer was still unhinged as though it hadn’t been fully closed in a rush ( _“Erik, honestly!  We’re going to be late!”  “We don’t even have a set time!”  “I don’t like being late!”  “He doesn’t even know we’re coming!”  “Let’s go!”  “I’m going to kick you down the stairs!  Are you really already in the hallway?  Stop smirking at me!”)_ , and two men very clearly lived in _one_ bed.

 

“Okay,” he said, stopping just beyond the doorway, “I get it.”  Charles and Erik both turned to him, arching their eyebrows.  “You two are sleeping together, that’s perfectly fine, and you seem to have some issues to work out, so I’m just going to go explore, alright?  I’ll be back in two or three hours.”  And Alex disappeared without another word, leaving Charles and Erik to look anywhere but at each other.

 

They steadfastly ignored one another for the first hour, going about their business and occasionally shoving each other out of the way.  It got bad enough that Charles’ watch actually smashed against the wall at one point, dragging him off the bed, and he vaulted from the floor, tackling Erik off the bed and onto the other side of the floor.  He actually brought his fist back at the same moment Erik realized his intentions and flipped Charles off of him.

 

“Stop it, just stop!” Erik exclaimed, pinning Charles to the floor, “I’m sorry!”

 

“What are you sorry for?” Charles spat, trying to push Erik off of him.

 

“For everything,” Erik softened, “For not admitting right then and there to Alex that I loved you, for thinking that we might hide us, for everything.”

 

Charles stared up at him, his features so torn.  That was the first time he ever saw Charles Xavier so at a loss, so upset, and yet so determined.  He only saw that look one other time.

 

\--

 

 _Don’t do this_ , Charles said in his mind the same time he looked up at Erik, pain plaguing every one of his features and said, “She didn’t do this, Erik.  You did.”

 

“Us turning on each other,” Erik said, as Charles’ voice entered his mind again,

 

 _I’ve always loved you, even before I knew you_.

 

“It’s what they want.”  _You are all I’ve ever wanted,_ Erik said to him mentally.  “I tried to warn you, Charles.”

 

_I tried to convince you otherwise.  We can fit in, Erik._

“I want you by my side.  We’re brothers, you and I.”

 

_Don’t do this.  Don’t leave me.  Please._

“All of us, together.”  His voice shook as Charles continued to plead, his face a mixture of everything he never wanted to see, never wanted to be the cause of.  “Protecting each other,” Erik managed to force out.

 

_Is this how you protect me?  I will never walk again.  I am a cripple.  This is your fault._

“We want the same thing.”

 

That did it.  Charles’ connection dropped away from him as he opened his mouth.  “Oh, my friend, I’m sorry, but we do not.”

 

_Charles, please._

_Erik, there is nothing you can say._

_I want you by my side._

_I heard you the first time._

_Please don’t do this.  Please understand._

_There is nothing to understand._

_I love you._

_Then don’t leave me._

He’ll never remember what happened after that, never remember the speech he gave.  All he can remember is the feeling of Charles’ heart beating against his own, their minds and bodies interconnected even as he stepped away.  He would never feel this again, never feel so intimately close to the only man he’d ever loved again, and it broke him.  As Raven’s words echoed across the beach, all he could hear was the steady rhythm of Charles’ heart, and his words in his mind, _I will always love you._

**Author's Note:**

> THIS MAKES ME SO INCREDIBLY SAD.
> 
> I kind of like how this turned out? I wasn’t, originally, planning to have that end scene come up so quickly. I was going to go through the training week and some Moira scenes in which Erik got exceptionally jealous cos that’s always fun, but then that line, “He only saw that look one other time.” I was like, oh, set up much? So then I just had to.
> 
> I HAD SO MUCH FUN. I knew I was going to. Charles has always been my favorite X-Men, just like Captain America has always been my favorite superhero.
> 
> Whatever, I need to go to dinner. Please leave your thoughts!


End file.
